The Big Black Bug Bled Blue Black Blood.
by Lord Benjamin
Summary: A retelling of the first scene in Godzilla Returns.


_At that time a great wonder occurred. The forests were ignited and a multitude of abominable vermin appeared _

-The Shu King, the Canon of Yao.  
  
  
  


I boarded the hulking ghost ship, rusted and barnacled coated, it floated up and down on the waves of the Pacific Ocean, one hundred miles south of Tokyo. So far no one had responded to my hails. But this ship was The Yaghogamoro, the same as the one on the radio, the one reported lost at sea for the past two days. And I, being the hard-boiled reported that I am, knew there was more to this story than simply a missing ship. A story like that was worthy enough. Like always, I brought along my snapshot camera I bought several years ago at Day-Mark for nine bucks.  


Everything was in disarray on the front deck, which was expected after a storm. Pails, ropes and fishing line were strewn about, rotting in stagnant pools, under the morning sun.   


I made my way to the bridge first, knowing that it give my access to the lower decks. The first thing I noticed was the gun rack had been broken in to and shell casings and boxes littered the floor.  


I removed my sunglasses and walk to the door I had been searching for. I pulled it away, groaning in protest as I did so. Instantly an odor of feces and sour milk assailed my nostrils. Scowling, I took a handkerchief out of my pocket and covered the lower half of my face in the crude filter. The darkness dominated the lower deck; only the grey light from behind the porthole provided some illumination. I took out my flashlight and aimed the beam ahead of me.   


The first thing noticed was the knife on the ground, covered dark smudges. Walking uneasily down the narrow hallway, I came to a door marked "RADIO ROOM." Cautiously, I nudged the door open. Within the cramped room I found a chair, desk and communications equipment. The radio blared away uselessly saw a dark form hunched over the desk. It wore a baseball cap. "Hello?" I called. I touched the back of the chair and turned it towards me. 

I gasped and turned away. 

With quivering fingers, I shone the light of my flashlight on the figure face. 

It was the corpse of a man, but in a condition I had never seen before. His eyes, blind, pupiless orbs, bulged from their sockets. His skin, drawn close to the bone, tight enough to become translucent and his mouth agape as if screaming, revealing perfect teeth. In his hand the radio hung from rotting fingers. Shivering, I put the seat back to its original position.  


I was about to leave this horrific scene when I noticed something written on the notepad in front of the corpse. It was hastily scrawled, but it was a recognizable haiku, a three-line, fifteen syllable poem.  


_ The world is dead,_

_ The sea is putrid,_

_ A devil arises.  
_

I left the room quietly. I couldn't get that horrific image out of my head. Everything in me screamed to leave this place, escape the same fate as the radioman. But I learned to trust my reporter's sense, which told that there was something here I need to see.  


I entered the locker room, to find more of the same. There must have been half a dozen bodies, all in the same condition as the first. Splayed about, some slumped against chairs, others hanging in bunks. Some had paddles, harpoons, and knives clutched in their skeletal hands. Improvised weapons? About to take snapshots when I tripped on a steamer trunk. There was some kind of white powder on the floor, and I got some on my face and hands. With disgust I wiped my hands on a nearby bed sheet.  


It looked like cocaine to me. Probably one of the fishermen was drug smuggling on the side.   


Then I heard a creaking sound. I leapt to my feet and saw one of the lockers had opened. I walked slowly over to it. Inside an Asian man was slumped in the locker; he had blood on his face from a cut on his forehead and his eyes closed. He wore a life-vest and his hand held tight to a knife. On intuition I felt his wrist. A pulse?  


"He's alive!" I tried to pry his hands away from the knife. I didn't want him stabbing me with it when he woke up. Succeeding, I stood with my camera to take one last picture, when I heard something click. It was behind me.  


I turned around and above the door, with the grey light partially illuminating it, was a dark shape. I could see three mandibles, arranged like a claw, clicking together on it's "head." It was descending at a snail's pace. 

My reporter's reflexes made me go for my camera. I think a got one off before the thing leapt at me. I dodged out of the way, hitting the ground. The thing bounced off the wall of lockers and leapt again, this time it landed right on top of me.

It's bloated grey body was crushing me and I could see it's claw-like mandible inching towards my neck. 

My hand grasped the knife and I frantically stabbed at the thing's head while it clicked. No good, it's underbelly was hard. I closed my eyes as the tips of its pincers edged closer to my face. Then, just when I was ready to give up and join the dead fishermen, to let this things suck out my life fluids, I heard a loud thwack. The thing stiffened and stopped clicking; it was clearly dead.

With disgust I pulled it off me. It was so damn heavy. I looked up to see the Asian man staring down at the thing, a bloody meat cleaver in his hand. "Ah! Got one!" Then his eyes rolled back and he slumped back to the floor. 

He had fainted.

The shock had worn off. I looked the huge insect on the floor with half a rusty blade in it's back. It seemed impossible, but this thing was a sea louse. A five-foot sea louse. What had caused it to grow this big? "Never mind that now." I said aloud. I turned my attention to more immediate problems. The man had awakened, but he was still in a daze. I helped him to his feet and we walked though the corpse sown lower deck.

We boarded my catamaran, and I treated the cut on his head with my first-aid kit. All the time he was rambling. He would say things like "It...huge...It was like a monster...," He gulped nervously "Suddenly the rocks rose...came...alive...killed everyone aboard....those things...they came off it." 

Our conversation was ended when I saw a white and orange rescue helicopter. It descended to pick us up. As I signaled it down, I guided my distraught companion to the security of the copter.

I gave the ghost-ship and it's vermin one last look. Hoping this would never happen again. 

And the real nightmare began.  
  



End file.
